


Just Because A Bad Idea Sounds Good At First Doesn't Actually Make It A Good Idea

by Autobratty, YeahDragon



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Bad Ideas, Gen, Pointless Crack, Pranks, The Transformers: More Than Meets the Eye (IDW), drinking/getting drunk, i cant believe we wrote this gem 2 years ago and forgot about it, puttin stuff up ur butt that shouldnt be up there, wild parties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-06-02 10:32:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6562843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Autobratty/pseuds/Autobratty, https://archiveofourown.org/users/YeahDragon/pseuds/YeahDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drift and Rodimus get slag-faced drunk together which proves to have been both an excellent and terrible idea</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Because A Bad Idea Sounds Good At First Doesn't Actually Make It A Good Idea

**Author's Note:**

> This is a horrible crack story Yeahdragon and I wrote LITERALLY TWO YEARS AGO ALMOST EXACTLY that we both totally forgot about, so I just did a lil bit of editing today and here we are. This is terrible and ridiculous and he's probably going to kick my aft for posting it and/or die laughing. Enjoy this absolute pedazo de mierda
> 
> Me and this meme make some crazy shit

Dance music boomed through Swerve’s bar, the bass blasting loud enough to make the tables quiver, but not so deafening that the boisterous laughter and chanting of the patrons couldn’t be heard by anyone outside. It was a private party, meant to help Captain Rodimus relax after his most recent “tantrum”, although a good amount of his close friends were invited. The song changed, accompanied by an increased in volume, the beat vibrating tables stacked with empty glasses and bottles. 

“This is my fraggin’ JAM!” Whirl shouted over the noise, tossing his empty glass of high-grade engex to the side and hurried to the dance floor. No one was quite sure what he was doing, but it looked something like the funky chicken crossed with twerking (if they knew what either of those moves were). Tailgate howled with laughter at the sight, toppling over sideways onto Cyclonus’ foot, a bit dizzy from the high-saturation drinks.

The captain himself sat in a booth with Drift, Rewind, and Chromedome, a line of small shot glasses set out in front of him. He had already begun to lighten up a little, laughing here and there at the displays of his crew, but his eyes were still full of bitterness as he glared at the multi-colored drinks in front of him.

“Come on, Rodimus! You need to relax!” Drift jeered as he slapped his captain hard on the back.

“Give me a minute, will you! Jeez.” Rodimus snapped, scooting away slightly. Drift rolled his optics, oblivious to his superior’s snippy attitude. “You said that half an hour ago, Rodimus! Just drink the damn shots before I do,” he laughed. “In fact - Swerve! Another round over here!”

Drift waved a servo in the air, and the minibot was fast to bring out the next round; within nanokliks the table was cleared of the empty glasses and reset with a new set of shots for the swordsmech. The next thing Rodimus knew, his third in command was powering through the shots. After finishing them all, Drift wiped his mouth off on the back of his servo, grinning proudly. He was a bit of a lightweight, and if all of that high-grade hadn’t began to affect him yet, his captain’d be damned.

Rodimus had finally had enough of the show. “You call that taking shots?” he scoffed, picking up a glass. “ _This_ is taking shots!” He downed the glass in a gulp - and then six more. Drift stared, mouth hanging ajar as the red mech finished with a deep, shuddery inhale through his vents. “Whew! Swerve!” Rodimus called out, flagging down the bartender again. “More shots! And make sure they’re the strongest scrap you got!” 

Rewind and Drift laughed while Chromedome shook his head good-naturedly. “Is that a challenge?” Drift crowed, mischief glimmering in his optics as Swerve set out a fresh round for the both of them. Rodimus slammed his servos onto the table, leaning across with a scrap-eating grin.

“You bet your huge aft it is!” 

Drift laughed. Getting the captain to loosen up was a successful mission. Behind him, Chromedome waved his communicator. “Ratchet needs Rewind and I in the med bay.” Drift smiled at the mention of the CMO. “Tell him I’m saving a dance for him.” Rewind popped up out of his seat. “Will do, Drift! Have fun-” “-And don’t purge your tanks,” Chromedome chimed in as the pair got up and left.

Drift turned back to his commander, mischievous grin as wide as it could grow. The hot rod returned the look as he reached for his first shot. “Get ready, pointy boy, because you are going down,” Rodimus jeered. Drift replied by going for his own liquor. “You’re on.”

\-----

An hour, about thirty shots, and a few glasses of high-grade later, the two mechs were slag-faced drunk but still somehow managed to stay on their feet, dancing like their joints would rust and lock up tomorrow and they only had today to use them.

“YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!” screamed Tailgate from across the room. Everyone looked over to see the cheery blue minibot atop Cyclonus’ shoulders, the normally stone-faced mech sporting a drunken grin as he trotted around with Tailgate. Laughter erupted, echoing through the bubbly atmosphere. Drift and Rodimus leaned against each other for support, the white mech attempting to start doing the can-can, but lifting one of his legs caused the two to swiftly drop to the floor.

“Frag!” Rodimus cried as he landed on top of his third in command, who was laughing hysterically. “I tried,” Drift wheezed as Rodimus began to laugh along.

“Y’know, this was...a good idea.” His words ran together as the red mech tried to stand. “Just what I needed.”

“Good! Now, shut up and dance with me.” 

The two mechs stumbled to their feet, fumbling and bumping around the dance floor, laughing with crewmates. Whirl let out a warrior screech at one point and slammed an empty can against his head, crushing it in one smooth motion.

“Whirl, you are the craziest party mech I know,” Drift slurred as he hung off of Rodimus, who nodded in agreement. 

Amused, Whirl squinted his one optic at them.“You two already scrapped? Damn, I’m barely even buzzed,” the helicopter replied, showing no ill effects from the can crushing nor the excessive fuel intake. “We’ve been here for hours, Whirl. Of course we’re drunk,” Rodimus croaked. “The party’ll be over soon, so better drink it up now, chicken legs.”

“The frag is a chicken?” Whirl asked as he reached for a shot that sat on one of the tables, diverting his attention to the drink as Drift began to pull the captain away. Rodimus shrugged carelessly. “Earth creature thing,” Rodimus called back as Drift dragged him towards Swerve.

“Just wanted to say thanks for throwing this little get-together.” Drift beamed at the red minibot, who smiled warmly, a cheerful buzz about him. “No problem.” He then shouted above the music and chatter, “Last call! Get your final drinks while you can!” 

Rodimus drunkenly mumbled something Drift couldn’t understand, and the white mech decided that was a good sign to call it quits. He nodded to a couple of their crewmates, murmuring thanks as he dragged the captain out of the bar.

Rodimus broke out into song as they stumbled down the hallway, and with a chuckle, Drift joined in, giving way to inebriation. The walk to the captain’s quarters seemed to take forever, with one of them falling over every few minutes or the other telling an impossible-to-understand joke, causing them to both double over guffawing shamelessly, an occasional crew member peeking out of their room to see what the commotion was.

Rodimus’ quarters were finally in sight as the two rounded a corner. “See you tomorrow, Roddy,” Drift sighed in a drunken singsong, turning away with a flourish.

“Drift, Drift wa-”

Rodimus’ words cut off in an impossible loud belch. He pounded his chassis a few times, making a face, and exhaled. “We gotta...play a game or somethin’. While we still can.” The red mech may have been so drunk he couldn’t see straight, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t formulate a plan - and unfortunately, Drift was just enough out of it to go along without question. The party was great, but it was uncalled for, and the captain didn’t quite appreciate that his best friend had convinced the resident bartender to throw him a party to massage his fragile ego after a temper tantrum. Therefore, some soft revenge was needed.

Rodimus took his third in command by the wrists and dragged him inside, both of them giggling. After toppling onto the floor and screwing around, wrestling for several minutes, Rodimus stopped, shoving Drift off him and propping himself up on his elbows.

“Hey, Drift. I have an idea,” Rodimus cooed in a joyful tone.

“Oh yeah?” The white mech asked, a stupidly happy grin plastered over his drunken face as he lay on his back. “Yeah, yeah...here’s the thing. It’s a dare,” Rodimus said, staring at Drift intently. “But it’s really, really awesome.”

“Scrap, what is it? I’ll do the thing, come on man; let’s do this!” Drift cheered as he shot up to his feet - or at least he tried to, as he fell over with a loud clang against the floor. The red mech grinned deviously - the prey had taken the bait, being too inebriated to think coherently.

“Okay, calm down a little bit there Skippy,” Rodimus chuckled. He scanned the room quickly until his optics landed on a small red stone, about the size of half of his palm. He clambered to his feet and retrieved the stone, a relic he’d procured on one of his many adventures.

“You gotta take this thing.” Rodimus handed Drift the stone as the white mech climbed to his knees. He started his best friend right in the optic. “Lube it up, and put it up your aft.”  


He’d been half-expecting some sort of protest, but much to his surprise, received nothing of the sort. “That all? Damn. I thought this would be hard,” Drift laughed. “Throw me some lube; let’s do this!”

Rodimus’ optics bulged a bit, and he puffed his cheeks out, but couldn’t contain his laughter as he threw a bottle of lubricant to the white mech and turned away to give him some privacy.  


No questions were asked until Drift grumbled, “Are you _sure_ this is awesome”? Rodimus couldn’t believe it. For a moment, he questioned himself if this was really a good idea. __

 _Eh, it’s just a harmless prank,_ he thought to himself. Knowing Drift, he’d probably get him back for it later.

After a few minutes of struggled noises from Drift and Rodimus snickering behind him, the swordsmech proudly proclaimed that he had accomplished his mission. Rodimus laughed til coolant leaked down his cheeks, Drift joining in as well, and they spent the rest of the night singing dumb songs and telling even dumber jokes before passing out on the floor, the stone all but forgotten.

\-----

Rodimus was shaken awake the next morning by a panic-stricken Drift.

“ _WHAT THE FRAG DID YOU MAKE ME DO LAST NIGHT?!_ ”

The captain blinked wearily, a bit shellshocked, and more than a bit hungover. “Huh?”

Drift shook him again by the shoulders, harder this time, trying to jolt him into full consciousness. “THERE IS SOMETHING WEDGED UP MY AFT, I CAN _FEEL_ IT, AND I _DON’T_ REMEMBER PUTTING IT THERE!”

“Whoa, Drift, buddy, calm down,” Rodimus soothed, holding up his servos. “Now, from the top...what?”

Drift’s optics were abnormally wide, gaze intense, as if he was staring into Rodimus’ very soul. “LAST NIGHT. YOU. ME. DRUNK. YOU DARED ME TO DO SOMETHING. AND NOW MY AFT HURTS LIKE HELL. WHAT. THE FRAG. _HAPPENED?!_ ”

Rodimus blinked again, recalling bits and pieces of the night before, and rubbed his helm, struggling to release his best friend’s death grip on him. “Oh, yeah, that.” He coughed a little. “I, ah, may or may not have dared you to shove a rock up your aft…?”

“ _WHAT?!?!?!_ ”

Rodimus couldn’t help but laugh, the reaction was too much for him to handle with the tail end of overcharge. “Alright, alright! I dared you to put a rock up your aft, okay?” He said as his giggle fit began to even out. 

“WHY?!” Drift was in his face, servos firmly clamped on his shoulders, vents blasting hot air. 

“‘CAUSE IT WAS FUNNY!” Rodimus yelled back, starting to laugh again, making a “pfft” sound. Drift pushed his captain to the floor, and the red mech rolled about chortling. Drift dragged his fingers down his faceplates and groaned loudly. 

“Damn it, Roddy! Now I have to go see Ratchet and, and…” The swordsmech’s face flushed brightly with embarrassment as he curled into himself, covering his burning face.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright, buddy. I’ll go with you.” Rodimus wiped the coolant from his eyes, done messing around due to the sheer look of horror on his best friend’s face. The captain may’ve been a jerk, but he wasn’t a heartless jerk. He stood and put a servo on his friend’s arm.

“You’d better,” Drift huffed, dropping his hands. He looked sheepish, tired, and more than a little apprehensive as the two of them made their way to the med bay.

They peered through the door. “Oh, looks like Ratchet’s busy; guess we’ll have to come back later-!”

Rodimus shoved Drift through the door, making a noisy entrance as usual, and called out to the CMO. “Yo Ratch! We’ve got a bit of a situation here!” Drift struggled, trying to get around him, but the fact that Rodimus was a bit shorter didn’t make him any easier to move.

Ratchet didn’t look up from the patient he was tending to. “Whatever it is, Rodimus, it can wait,” he responded gruffly.

“Even if it’s Drift?”

That got his attention. Rodimus grinned, Drift pouted, and Ratchet got up with a sigh.

“What did you two do this time?”


End file.
